


Great Bloody Bastard

by dustandroses



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Adult/Minor Sex Implied, Community: tamingthemuse, Dark, Dark fic, F/M, M/M, POV: Spike, Rough Sex, noncon, wholesale slaughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike goes above and beyond to please his sire, but nothing is ever good enough for Angelus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Bloody Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Notes:** Inspiration for this fic taken from tamingthemuse prompts #425: [Hecatomb](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Hecatomb?s=t), #426: [Ichthus](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ichthys), and #427: Sleepwalk  
>  **Notes:** The original name of this story was _Grevlen_ , but that was too boring, so I went with something a little bit more interesting.  
> In case you're curious: there's no such place as Grevlen, I made it up. In my head, it was a tiny village somewhere in Western Europe before Spike and Angelus got their hands on it.  
> Thanks to Ozsaur for her valuable advice and suggestions.  
>  **For those who've asked:** No, the rape is not part of the main pairing.

“Another brunette? I’ve had my damn fill of brunettes.” 

Spike stopped, halfway out the door. His sire’s thick accent was a warning, and he turned back, studying Angelus carefully. “I thought you liked brunettes.”

“I’ve had enough of brunettes, and I’ve had enough of you.”

Angelus leaned back against the head of the bed, where he’d lounged for hours now, his scowl even heavier than it had been when Spike had left to bring his sire a meal. He shoved the girl with his heavy boot, and she rolled off the bed, landing with a thud. Spike had trussed her up well, so she couldn’t do more than wiggle, but she did her best to roll under the bed, for what good that would do her. 

“Get the hell out of here,” Angelus ordered, “and bring me a redhead.”

“What is wrong with you?” Spike said, trying hard to not growl. “You’ve been out of sorts for days, now, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to satisfy you.” Spike knew he was courting a beating, but at this point, he simply didn’t care. Angelus was doing his best to send Spike as batty as Dru, and he wasn’t going to take it for too much longer. 

His sire’s eyes glowed angrily, but before Angelus could reply, Drusilla swept in, two sweet-faced young girls in tow, dazed-eyed and bewildered from Dru’s thrall. They couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen at the most.

“I’ve brought you a pressie, Daddy. I found them playing lookabout in the marketplace, and I knew they were just what you wanted.”

Spike rolled his eyes impatiently. They’d never do. They were pale and meek, and Angelus always liked a bit of a fight with his meals. Besides, their long braids were as yellow as straw. He steeled himself for Angelus’ storm, worried that he might take his anger out on Drusilla. 

“Twins!” Angelus sat up, a wicked smile breaking across his face. “Drusilla! What an excellent surprise!” 

Spike ground his teeth. It seemed it was just _Spike_ the great bastard was out of sorts with. 

Jumping to his feet, Angelus focused on the two girls as he circled them like a shark. He ran his hand down one girl’s side, and she shuddered, beginning to come out of her stupor, and grabbed her sister’s hand. 

Dru stepped up, her fingers weaving back and forth in front of their faces. “Here now, that won’t do…”

Angelus stopped her with a hand. “No. No more thrall. I want to hear her when she breaks beneath me, and watch her sister scream as I drench her in her twin’s blood.” He turned, striding to the door, all his apathy and indifference gone in a snap.

Spike scowled as Angelus stopped before him. This wasn’t likely to be pleasant.

“You see, William? Drusilla has the right of it. If you want to keep your sire happy, you need to surprise me from time to time. Come up with something exciting, something new, something forbidden, and you’ll never disappoint me.”

He walked out, and Dru followed, pulling the two frightened sisters along in her wake. Angelus pushed Dru in the direction of the stairs. “Take them down to the dungeon.” He frowned at Spike, who stared at him sullenly. 

Drusilla stopped at the top of the stairs. “Don’t worry, my darling Spike. Your chance will come tomorrow.” She disappeared down the stairs, taking the twins with her. 

Angelus rubbed his hands together with a smirk. “Don’t disappoint me!” he called back, his deep laugh echoing up the stairs. 

Spike wasn’t sure if the laughter was because of the twins, or whether he was looking forward to tomorrow, but if Spike couldn’t come up with something extraordinary, it was sure to be a disaster.

* * *

Spike cleared his throat nervously, as they pulled their horses to a stop at the top of the hill. Below them a small village stood, not more than one hundred people, quiet and isolated, and exactly what he’d been searching for. Spike had talked to the local Master last night, and he’d suggested this community. Obviously he’d had some trouble with a band of brigands that had come from Grevlen, and was more than happy for a chance to pay them back. He’d even loaned Spike a number of his best men for the evening.

The road out of the hamlet snaked around a hilly, wooded area. Spike couldn’t see anyone on the road, but he knew they were there, he could hear the rustle in the woods all around them. He merely had to make the signal, and it would begin. He’d never been in charge of so many people at once, it made him nervous. But he hadn’t let it show, he hadn’t even let the scent of his nerves escape as he’d given the men their instructions earlier in the evening. He’d been trained by the best. 

“Well, William?” Angelus stared down the small hill on which they sat, taking in the silent village below them. The moon was large, and bright; to vampire’s eyes it was as clear as day. 

“A brisk ride of a cool evening may be a treat, but the night is looking to take a sharp downturn, if there’s not more to it than this.” He took a deep breath, scenting the air. “There’s something out there, though. I can sense it. And vampires – a number of them. What’s going on, Will?”

Spike’s nervousness disappeared in an instant, and he knew they would follow his lead. “A tribute.” 

Angelus frowned in his direction, but Spike grinned excitedly. He raised his arm into the air, and a sudden hush swept the woods around them. “A sacrifice,” he told Angelus, “to my sire.”

He swept his arm down, and a loud shout rang through the air, followed by many others. Horses crashing through the underbrush, thundering over the hard-packed dirt road, and the shouts of the vampires riding them all jangled noisily in the air. Angelus stared openmouthed as they hit the small town from both sides, throwing torches on the thatched roofs to drive the people outside.

The villagers ran screaming, and as all hell broke loose, Angelus laughed, loud and raucous. “Now this is more like it!” he shouted, his eyes glinting yellow in the night. Whipping his horse, he flew down the hill, and Spike took off behind him, whooping loudly, relieved that for once, he’d done it right.

* * *

Spike dropped the drained body of his opponent, dissatisfied with their fight, as well as with the taste of his blood. Not good enough. They never were. He found himself choosing the same type, over and over, tall and strong, bulging with muscles. He’d fought two or three since they came over the top of the hill and attacked the town of Grevlen, but they never lived up to his expectations. He had no interest in a weak woman, or a nancy boy, he wanted a man with some fight in him, someone who offered a challenge. But they always disappointed; they were far too easy to break. And their blood was never good enough – not when compared to his sire’s. 

He knew he needed to curtail his fascination with Angelus. The bastard did his best to hurt Spike at every turn, to rip him apart, especially in front of Drusilla. But he was Spike’s sire in all but deed, and no matter how hard he tried to break away, he always found himself coming back to Angelus, falling at his sire’s feet at just one gesture. Pleading for his attention. He walked back to the gates of the old graveyard where he’d tied his horse, and pulled a bottle of Irish whiskey out of the heavy saddlebag. 

A woman’s harsh wail caught his attention, and he looked over the wall to find Angelus pushing a buxom young girl over a gravestone, laughing as she cried. Her bodice was torn, her breasts spilling out over the rough stone, a sluggishly bleeding wound raw on her neck. Angelus pounded into her, laughing at her cries as her fingers scrabbled over the rough-hewn words, blood dripping down over the shape of a fish entwined with a cross. 

Spike took a big slug of whiskey, and adjusted his cock in his breeches. He wasn’t much for rape, but his sire had a way of making everything he did erotically stimulating, and this was no exception. Too bad he couldn’t see that fine arse in motion. But he was annoyed with Angelus at the moment, so he turned his back on the sight, and walked away. 

Half a dozen vamps were playing ring around the rosy with a couple of women, slapping and pinching them, pushing them back to the center when they tried to escape the circle. That didn’t keep his attention for long, either. He could hear the tumbling heartbeat of a panicking human hiding behind a low stone wall, so he headed that direction, practicing his skills of stealth. The great Irish lug was at least good for something; Spike was becoming a skilled hunter under Angelus’ strict tutelage. So he played cat and mouse, sneaking up slowly, looking for a bit of fun. 

He was so engrossed in his hunt that Spike barely heard Angelus’ laughter before his buxom hussy ran screaming by, clutching her ragged clothing to her chest. Of course, his little mouse fled, the boy crashing into Angelus’ girl before running right into the circle of local vamps Spike had watched earlier. He sighed briefly at the loss of his fun, and brought his bottle up for more whiskey. The bottle never made it to his mouth; it was grabbed right out of his hand.

“Oi! That’s mine, you plonker!” he shouted, but the minger kept walking, ignoring Spike’s complaint. Didn’t matter, he’d brought several others, because he’d known as soon as the Irish arse saw the bottle, Spike would lose it. It was the principle of the matter, though. He had to voice his objections.

Angelus’ girl had fallen when Spike’s little mouse ran into her, but she hadn’t given up, crawling determinedly on hands and knees over the dirt road. Angelus put his foot down in the middle of her back, and she collapsed to her stomach with a cry. He held her there while he tipped up the bottle for a healthy swig, then he picked her up one handed, and threw her belly first over the stone wall. Pulling her skirts up, he put the whiskey down long enough to rip open his breeches, and he started pummeling her once again.

Spike rolled his eyes, and turned away, back to his horse for another bottle, but he didn’t get more than two steps before Angelus called to him. 

“William, get your arse over here.” 

The heavy growl, and thick accent were a warning, and Spike turned back, dread sitting heavy in his stomach. When Angelus used that tone of voice, you didn’t dare disobey. 

“Sire?” Spike clenched his jaw to keep in his anger. He’d done well today, the least Angelus could do was recognize his hard work. 

Angelus drained the whiskey bottle, tossed it into the road, then patted the top of the stone wall, an invitation for Spike to join him. Surprised, Spike straddled the wall, moving closer when Angelus crooked his finger in invitation. It was hard to concentrate while Angelus was fucking a woman less than two feet away; with the scent of sex and his sire’s musk surrounding him, Spike’s cock was hard in mere moments. 

He licked his lips, anxious and uncertain as to what Angelus wanted, but hoping against hope that this intimacy could continue. His luck held when the older vamp reached out, squeezing Spike’s cock through his trousers. Spike’s hips bucked up into Angelus’ hand, and he bit his lip to hold back his pleas for more.

Angelus leaned close, his hips never losing their rhythm as he fucked the sobbing girl underneath him, and Spike leaned closer, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest with want.

They were only inches apart, and Angelus looked deep into Spike’s eyes. “Do you want me, Will?” he asked as he massaged Spike’s cock. “You want me to fuck you, and show you what you mean to me?” 

Spike knew he was revealing too much, but Angelus was asking, and who was he to deny his sire anything? “Yes, Sire. I want you.”

Angelus let go of his cock, and shoved him away. “Why the hell would I want you, when I could have _her_?” He grabbed the girl by her hair, and pulled her up so Spike could see her tear-swollen face.

Spike reared back in surprise, and Angelus laughed in his face. “Go find me some more whiskey, and be quick about it, boyo, before I strip your back with my whip.” 

Spike’s stomach bottomed out, and it took all the determination he could muster to avoid striking out at the great bloody bastard, but he’d tried that before. Angelus was well over twice his age, and had twice his strength and experience. There was no chance that a confrontation between the two would end any other way than with Spike in broken pieces. But even more than the anger, the hurt blossomed inside him. Being rejected by your sire was a painful experience.

Angelus pulled the girl up so she was standing, before grabbing her breasts in both hands, squeezing her nipples tightly. She cried out in pain, then asked shakily, “Why? Why are you doing this?”

Spike stood, pulling in all his anger, and his disgust at being drawn in by the man one more time. When he spoke, he was pleased to hear that his voice sounded even.

“Why are we doing this?” he echoed her question. “This village is a sacrifice to the bloodlust of Angelus!” 

He walked stiffly away. Holding in his anger with every ounce of his tattered pride, he murmured as he left. “A sacrifice to his great, bloody ego, and his even larger bloody arse!” 

The familiar crack of a human neck snapping surprised him, and he turned around in time to see Angelus, his face incensed with rage, right before he barreled into Spike, taking them both to the ground. They rolled through the mud of the dirt road, grappling for an advantage, and Spike’s fear nearly overwhelmed him. He’d never seen Angelus so angry before. 

Spike knew he was at a disadvantage; Angelus had not only his greater bulk and strength on his side, but the experience of over a hundred more years of fighting. Angelus had taught Spike almost everything he knew about fighting, he’d learned all his dirtiest tricks from his sire, there was nothing Angelus wouldn’t be prepared for. If he could break away from the close grappling, his speed could give him somewhat of an advantage, but as angry as he was, Angelus still held Spike tight, headbutting him with that huge rock of a head until Spike was dizzy, and landing solid punches to his gut, one right after the other.

They rolled this way and that, and Spike was determined to get Angelus underneath him, thinking that he could turn the fight in his favor at least for a while if he could land on top. The opportunity came, and he threw his weight in the right direction as they rolled behind one of the few still upright buildings, but they came to a sudden stop when Spike’s back hit the body of a dead man, the scent of human blood arousing his hunger. He screamed with frustration, putting all his strength behind a mighty shove that pushed Angelus back, away from his body.

Unfortunately, Angelus grabbed Spike as he fell backwards, throwing him to the side, and landing astride Spike’s hips, elbows stiff as he held Spike’s shoulders to the ground. He wasn’t sure when the tenor of the fight had changed, but from the wicked smirk on Angelus’ lips, it certainly had. Angelus shifted his hips, grinding his arse against Spike’s cock. He bit his lips to avoid moaning, but his sire simply laughed and breathed deeply – Spike’s lust hung heavy in the air, there was no way to hide that aroma.

“Well, well – still hungry for your sire, are you?” 

Spike ground his teeth. He wanted to be angry with the great bastard, but he could feel his animosity fading in the face of a chance to experience this intimacy with his sire. It happened far too seldom for his tastes, and he couldn’t waste this opportunity. He threw his head back in surrender, his muscles relaxing, even as his cock hardened once again.

“Please, Sire.”

“That’s more like it, boyo,” Angelus rumbled deep in his chest. 

With no warning, Spike was flipped onto his stomach, his breeches opened and pushed down around his feet. He braced himself for what he knew was coming, and was surprised to see Angelus swipe two fingers through the slick blood of the dead man’s gaping throat wound before shoving his wet fingers in Spike’s ass. He seldom got that much of a cursory preparation, but he appreciated it, despite the fact that he didn’t mind the pain – he was certain there would be plenty of that as well.

The burn of Angelus’ cock was exquisite, and Spike moaned into the grass, clutching the sod underneath him as his eyes closed in pleasure. Angelus set up a quick pace, his big hands heavy on Spike’s shoulders, pressing him down into the ground, and holding him immobile. He could feel the bruises blooming from the force of Angelus’ fingers gripping his flesh.

“Oh, ye like this, don’t you, William? It makes you hard when your sire holds you down, and pushes inside you, taking what he wants.”

Spike shuddered, feeling Angelus’ words growling inside him. If he weren’t already so hard he was about to burst, those words alone would have made him so. He opened his senses wide, savoring every moment they shared – every ache, every wound, every bruise – reveling in the chance to have his sire to himself for once. Angelus thrust deep, driving him slowly across the grass with every shove, and Spike dug his fingers into the sod, holding on as best he could. 

Far, far too soon, Angelus dropped to his elbows, grabbing Spike’s hair and pulling his head to the side. The bite was sudden and sharp, sending Spike flying into his orgasm, shouting his pleasure as the world around him dimmed, narrowing into the feel of his sire’s suckling mouth. Eventually, Angelus pulled away from Spike’s throat, and collapsed on top of him, his heavy frame weighing Spike down, and pressing him into the grass. 

Perfect. This moment was perfect. He’d roast in hell when his day came, he knew, but right now, Spike was in paradise. Angelus climbed to his feet, and Spike sighed heavily. His sire never lingered long, let alone long _enough_. 

Buttoning up his breeches, and smoothing down his shirt, he frowned down at Spike, who lay there watching, his hands tucked under his cheek, too drained to move. Angelus slid the toe of his boot under Spike’s shoulder, tipping him over onto his back.

“You’re a mess, Will,” he complained. “Clean yourself up before you let anyone see you. No need for the locals to see we’ve been rutting in the mud.”

Spike sat up, rolling his eyes. Angelus was obsessed with his image. What the hell did the other vampires care what they’d done? Vampires fucked each other all the time. Angelus crossed his arms, one eyebrow cocked, and Spike realized he was not in the mood for backtalk.

“Yes, Sire.” 

Angelus nodded, mollified. He reached down, ripped the shirt right off the corpse they’d been fucking next to, and dropped the cloth in Spike’s lap as he walked away. 

“Don’t forget the whiskey, boyo,” he threw back over his shoulder. “I’m still waitin' for it.”

Laughing, Spike wiped his neck and his cock, cleaning up his mess as best he could. As if the vampires wouldn’t be able to tell what they’d been up to. He struggled to his feet, surprised at how dizzy he felt. The great bastard must have taken more blood than Spike thought. He could feel Angelus’ come running down the backs of his thighs, and he dropped the shirt, rubbing the come into his skin instead. Angelus may want to hide what they did, but Spike had no qualms about the others knowing his sire had fucked him. To him it was a matter of pride.

He did worry about being seen as weak the way he currently felt, so he tracked down a pair of rapid heartbeats to the shed behind the burned out house next door. He carefully trailed them, concerned that his reflexes might be too slow with the amount of blood Angelus had drained out of him. Fortunately, the heartbeats belonged to a girl no older than the twins Drusilla had brought Angelus yesterday, and a younger boy, probably her brother. 

The boy tried to be brave, but he was only ten or eleven, and Spike savored his blood, rich with fear and anguish, despite his bravado. Spike smirked at the girl’s brunette tresses – unlike Angelus he had no problem with the color of her hair – it was the red of her blood that mattered. She tasted of despair, and the bitterness of a life ended too soon. Personally, Spike preferred aggression and anger. Hostility and hatred added a bold spice to the flavor of blood, but Angelus and Dru had taught him the pleasures to be found in all sorts of emotions. He had a long way to go before he’d tried them all. 

Wiping the last of the blood from his lips, Spike straightened his sleeves, and walked out from between the houses onto the main road. Regretfully, he felt the vitality of fresh blood healing Angelus’ bite. They never lasted long enough. 

A wizened, old woman walked by in a daze, blood staining the front of her white bed gown, her wrinkled face not even acknowledging Spike’s presence when he slipped into his true face and snarled at her. It reminded him of the time he’d found Drusilla sleepwalking, about to step out of their house and directly into a bright sunbeam. He didn’t like the idea of the woman wandering around loose, so he snapped her neck, and left her where she lay. 

A group of vampires were gathered around three or four young men with their feet and legs tied, whipping them with whatever was handy: riding crops and tree branches. They had a race going, to see who could make it across the finish line first on their hands and knees. Angelus was placing a bet, but he stopped long enough to tip an invisible bottle in Spike’s direction, one eyebrow cocked in reminder. 

Fortunately, Spike had brought four bottles with him, padded with cloth, and he pulled two out of his saddle bags. He helped himself to a few healthy swigs before heading back to the crowd. Making sure Angelus was watching, he passed one around to the half a dozen vamps cheering on the runners in this crazy race. That earned him a round of huzzahs. Angelus acknowledged the goodwill Spike earned with that move, hiding his frown, despite the annoyance Spike could see in his eyes. Then Spike handed him the other bottle with a grin. 

“Did you think I’d forget you, Sire?”

Angelus laughed loudly, swinging one arm across Spike’s shoulders as he shouted, “Now that’s my boyo!” 

Spike savored the moment, proud to be acknowledged as a favored childe of Angelus. 

* * *

It was closer to dawn than Spike had planned when they finally left. He winced as he slid onto the saddle, but smiled, pleased with the shock of pain in his arse. He’d be reminded of his time with Angelus all the way home, and he was happy for the reminder. He took out the last bottle of Irish whiskey, and toasted the village around them.

“To Grevlen.”

Angelus grabbed the bottle away from him as soon as he finished drinking. “What the hell is a _Grevlen_?”

Spike swept his arms open wide. “This is Grevlen.” He shrugged and laughed. “Or it _was_. Now, I’d call it a ruin.” 

“Who cares what they called it in the past? It was a tribute to me, and if they’re smart, _that’s_ what the towns around here will call it, long after we’ve moved on.” He turned his horse and galloped away, taking Spike’s last bottle of whiskey with him.

Spike rode through the hollow, empty village – a silent wraith in the predawn fog – one side of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. It _had_ been a tribute – a tribute to Angelus’ bloody great ego, and if Spike were any judge, it had been a worthy one.


End file.
